schubert bach collegium japan winterreise bach • …

Philippe Sly bass-baritone | Michael McMahon fortepiano“The performances are of unmatched excellence.”

Gramophone

Masaaki Suzuki music directorJoanne Lunn soprano

BACH • HANDEL • VIVALDI BACH COLLEGIUM JAPAN

David Fallis music director

FESTIVE CANTATASA MONTEVERDI CHRISTMAS VESPERS

3PM AT THE CHAN CENTRE


DEC23Generously supported by the Drance Family and Sharon E. Kahn

DEC09Generously supported by Zelie & Vincent Tan and Adele Lafleur

"Nothing less than splendid, one of the best musical treats

of the holiday season." Vancouver Sun

Tickets from $36 | earlymusic.bc.ca | 604.822.2697

NOV02AT CHRIST CHURCH CATHEDRAL

Generously supported by Tony & Margie Knox

Philippe Sly bass-baritone | Michael McMahon fortepiano

SCHUBERTWINTERREISE

2 | EMV Cathedral Series 2018/19 [email protected] Schubert – Winterreise

board of directorsChris Guzy

president

Fran Watters vice president

Spencer Corrigal cpa,catreasurer

Tony Knoxpast president

Ilia Korkhsecretary

Sherrill GraceMelody Mason

Tim Rendell cpa,caIngrid Söchting

Vincent Tan÷

José Verstappen cmartistic director emeritus

÷

staffMatthew White

executive & artistic director

Nathan Lorchbusiness manager

Jocelyn Peircedevelopment coordinator

Laina Tanaharamarketing & volunteer coordinator

Jonathan Evansproduction coordinator

Jan Gatesevent photographer

Murray Paterson Marketing Group

marketing & media relations

Trevor Mangionand

The Chan Centre Box Office Staffemv ticket office: 604.822.2697

1254 West 7th Avenue, Vancouver BC, V6H 1B6

tel: 604.732.1610 fax: 604.732.1602

[email protected]

Early Music Vancouver PARTNERS

We also gratefully acknowledge the generosity of our many donors and volunteers.

THANK YOU!

We acknowledge the support ofthe Province of British Columbia

THE DRANCE FAMILYEARLY MUSIC VANCOUVER FUND

board of directors

Chris Guzy president

Fran Watters vice president

Spencer Corrigal cpa,catreasurer

Tony Knoxpast president

Ilia Korkhsecretary

Sherrill GraceMelody Mason

Jesse ReadTim Rendell cpa,ca

Ingrid SöchtingVincent Tan

÷

José Verstappen cmartistic director emeritus

÷

staff

Matthew Whiteexecutive & artistic director

Nathan Lorchbusiness manager

Jocelyn Peircedevelopment coordinator

Laina Tanaharamarketing & volunteer coordinator

Jonathan Evansproduction coordinator

Jan Gatesevent photographer

Murray PattersonMarketing Group

marketing & media relations

Trevor Mangionand

The Chan Centre Box Office Staffemv ticket office: 604.822.2697

EMV’s performances at the Chan Centre are presented in partnership with the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts, with the support of the Chan Endowment Fund at the University of British Columbia.

pacificbaroque

orchestraalexander weimann

MUSIC director

THE BRENNAN SPANO FAMILY FOUNDATION

Early Music Vancouver gratefully acknowledges the assistance and support of:

GOVERNMENT SUPPORT

FOUNDATIONS

2018-19 PRODUCTION PARTNERS

production partners in victoria bc:

CORPORATE SUPPORT

Rosedale on RobsonSuite Hotel

VANCOUVER, BC Tony Knox Barrister & Solicitor, Arbitrator

1291 West 40th Avenue,Vancouver, B.C. V6M 1V3 Canadawww.knoxlex.com

Knox & Co. denotes D.A.Knox Law Corporation

Tel: 604 263 5766Cell: 604 374 7916Fax: 604 261 1868Email: [email protected]

Season Calendar panels 2018-19.indd 36 16/06/2018 12:13:31 PM

partners

You can be in good company too!The corporate sponsors of Early Music Vancouver give back to their community through the support of our performances and education & outreach programmes. Their efforts make a meaningful difference for concertgoers and musicians alike.

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Schubert – Winterreiseearlymusic.bc.ca EMV Cathedral Series 2018/19 | 3

schubert – winterreisethe artists

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Pre-concert introduction at 6:45 with host Matthew White:

Philippe Sly and

Michael McMahon

generously supported by Tony & Margie Knox

Philippe Sly bass-baritone

Michael McMahon19th-century pianoforte

by broadwood (london, 1870) from the instrument collection

of early music vancouver

Franz Schubert (1797– 1828)

Winterreise(D. 911, published as Op. 89 in 1828)

A setting of 24 poems by Wilhelm Müller

(1794– 1827)

1. Gute Nacht 2. Die Wetterfahne 3. Gefror’ne Tränen 4. Erstarrung 5. Der Lindenbaum 6. Wasserflut 7. Auf dem Flusse 8. Rückblick 9. Irrlicht 10. Rast 11. Frühlingstraum 12. Einsamkeit

Early Music Vancouver’s 19th-Century Pianoforte by Broadwood

The most recent addition to EMV’s important collection of historical instruments was a generous gift by Dr. Patricia M. Lee and Dr. Nicholas H. Lee.

This is an original 19th-century instrument by Broadwood, one of the oldest and most renowned piano makers in the world. Established in the mid-1700s, Broadwood has built pianos in England for over two centuries and continues to make some of Europe’s finest pianos today.

This small grand piano of 1870, built in a beautiful walnut burl, was typical for the time; these instruments in the Empire Revival style were quite popular in late 19th-century parlours and country house boudoirs. A decal inside the casing reads “Consigned to Balmoral” which suggests that it may have been made for Queen Victoria’s residence at the Scottish castle she loved so much.

13. Die Post 14. Der greise Kopf 15. Die Krähe 16. Letzte Hoffnung 17. Im Dorfe 18. Der stürmische Morgen 19. Täuschung 20. Der Wegweiser 21. Das Wirtshaus 22. Mut 23. Die Nebensonnen 24. Der Leiermann

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“Winterreise is an œuvre that accompanies an artist throughout his development, perhaps because it asks the most fundamental of questions: why do we suffer, and is it meangingful? We could also phrase it another way: how does one draw meaning from suffering? We live in a society that pathologically avoids such questions and Schubert’s uncanny effort serves as a bright light in a time of ignorance and fear.” – Philippe Sly

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— this programme will be performed without an interval –

with the support of


the artists

Philippe SlyFrench-Canadian bass-baritone Philippe Sly has gained international recognition for his “beautiful, blooming tone and magnetic stage presence” (San Francisco Chronicle). Mr. Sly is the first prize winner of the prestigious Concours Musical International de Montréal and a grand prize winner Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions singing the varied repertoire of Mozart, Bach, Handel, Stravinsky and Wagner. Recently, he was awarded Concert of the Year in Romantic, Post-Romantic and Impressionist Music at the 16th annual ceremony of the Prix Opus in Québec.

In the 2018-2019 season, Philippe Sly returns to the Paris Opera for his first performances of Leporello in a new production of Don Giovanni conducted by Philippe Jordan. He will be heard in Handel’s Messiah with the Philadelphia Orchestra conducted by Yannick Nézet-Séguin and with the Handel & Haydn Society conducted by Bernard Labadie. Additional concert engagements include Haydn’s Lord Nelson Mass and Mozart’s Requiem with Orchestra of St. Luke’s and Labadie, as well as Bach Matthäus-Passion with the National Arts Centre in Ottawa. In recital, he performs Winterreise with pianist Michael McMahon in Montreal, Vancouver, San Francisco, and others. He will also be seen in special performances with Le Chimera Project of Schubert’s Winterreise arranged for Klezmer quartet.

A native of Montreal, Mr. Sly frequently appears with the Montreal Symphony and Kent Nagano. He has been heard with the OSM in Debussy’s Pelléas et Melisande as Golaud, Honegger’s L’Aiglon (recorded for commercial release), Bach’s Johannes-Passion, Méphistophélès in Berlioz’s La damnation de Faust, and Nielsen’s Symphony No. 3, as well as songs of Rachmaninoff, Grieg, and Sibelius. As a soloist with Yannick Nézet-Séguin, he has sung performances of Mozart’s Mass in C minor and Bach’s Matthäus-Passion, both with the Philadelphia Orchestra, and Bach’s Matthäus-Passion again with Orchestre Métropolitain in Montreal. He is featured as

Antonio in a recording of Le nozze di Figaro with Nézet-Séguin at the Baden-Baden Festival on Deutsche Grammophon.

Philippe has performed Narbal in Berlioz’s Les Troyens with Orchestre Philharmonique de Strasbourg under John Nelson, which won a Grammy Award (Warner/Erato). He made his Los Angeles Philharmonic as Guglielmo in Così fan tutte under Gustavo Dudamel in a production by Christopher Alden, his Philadelphia Orchestra debut in Fauré’s Requiem conducted by Alain Altinglou, Minnesota Orchestra debut in Fauré’s Requiem conducted by Bernard Labadie, and Dallas Symphony debut in Bach’s Matthäus-Passion with Jaap van Zweden. Additional concert engagements have included Handel’s Messiah with the Toronto Symphony, Montreal Symphony, Winnipeg Symphony Orchestra, and at the National Arts Centre; Handel’s Solomon with Bernard Labadie and Violons du Roy; concerts of Fauré, Handel, and Haydn with Orchestre Symphonique de Québec; a concert of arias with the Malaysian Philharmonic; and Mozart’s Requiem and Mozart arias with the Toronto Symphony and Labadie.

On the opera stage, Philippe Sly debuted at the Paris Opera in a new production of Così fan tutte as Guglielmo conducted by Philippe Jordan, followed by Zebul in Claus Guth’s new production of Jephtha conducted by William Christie. He also debuted at Festival d’Aix-en-Provence and Opéra de Lyon as the title role in new productions of Don Giovanni. He debuted at the Hamburg Opera in fully-staged performances of Bach’s Matthäus-Passion in a Romeo Castellucci production which was broadcast across Europe and was seen at Opéra Comique in Boesmann’s Au monde. Mr. Sly was a member of the prestigious Adler Fellowship Program at the San Francisco Opera where he made his mainstage debut as Guglielmo in Così fan tutte conducted by Nicola Luisotti. He has also been seen in San Francisco as Ormonte in Christopher Alden’s award-winning production of Handel’s Partenope and as Figaro in Le nozze di Figaro. Mr. Sly made his Glyndebourne debut as Claudio in a new production of Berlioz’s Béatrice et Bénédict directed by Laurent Pelly.

As a recitalist, Mr. Sly toured Canada in recital with the Debut Atlantic Series and was heard at the Toronto Summer Music Festival with pianist Julius Drake, as well as at the Banff Centre and with the Coast Recital Society. He frequently collaborates with guitarist John Charles Britton for guitar/voice duo recitals of Schubert, most recently at the Tucson Guitar Society and in Montreal with Fondation Arte Musica / Musée des beaux-arts de Montréal. Mr. Sly was a Révélation Radio-Canada artist for the 2012-2013 season.

Mr. Sly holds a Bachelor of Music degree in voice performance from McGill University’s Schulich School of Music in Montreal. After winning the MET National Council Auditions, Mr. Sly became a member of the ensemble at the Canadian Opera


Pianist Michael McMahon is the preferred partner to many of Canada’s finest singers. He has performed regularly throughout Canada and in Europe, Japan, and the USA with singers such as Catherine Robbin, Karina Gauvin, Measha Brueggergosman, Gordon Bintner, Marianne Fiset, Lyne Fortin, Dominique Labelle, Wendy Nielsen, Maureen Forrester, Marie-Nicole Lemieux, Annamaria Popescu, Joseph Kaiser, Nathan Berg, Brett Polegato, Benjamin Butterfield, Philippe Sly, Daniel Taylor, Kimy McLaren,Michael Schade, Russell Braun, and Richard Margison.

Following his studies at McGill University in Montreal, Michael completed his musical education in Vienna at the Hochschule für Musik und darstellende Kunst and the Franz Schubert Institute, and in Salzburg at the Mozarteum. During this time, he studied with such legendary artists as Erik Werba, Hans Hotter, Elly Ameling, Jörg Demus, and Kim Borg.

In addition to his active performing schedule, Michael is a Professor at the Schulich School of Music of McGill University in Montreal. He has had long associations with l’Atelier lyrique de L’Opéra de Montréal, Opera Nuova, the Orford Arts Centre, and the Banff Centre for the Arts, where he has worked regularly as a vocal coach. He is also often asked to give masterclasses for singers and pianists, and is a resident artist at the Franz Schubert Institute in Austria and the C.O.S.I. Summer Opera program in Italy.

Michael has made numerous broadcast recordings for the English and French networks of the CBC, as well as for the BBC, RBTF, Radio Suisse Romande, and Radio France. His recordings on the Marquis, CBC , Atma, and Analekta labels have met with critical acclaim, including Juno nominations and the Prix Opus. He was also a judge and vocal coach for the award-winning television series “Bathroom Divas”. In 2012, Michael was honoured with a Ruby Award by Opera Canada for his contribution to music in Canada. n

Michael McMahon

Company, followed by the San Francisco Opera’s Merola Program and Adler Fellowship. Mr. Sly recently recorded “Phantom on the Dance Floor” and subsequent music video with Canadian singer/songwriter Kiesza. His solo recordings are available on Analekta Records. n

Interested in joining our volunteer corps?Phone 604.732.1610 for details.

Our activities are made possible through the generous assistance of many volunteers

who offer their time. We would like to thank the following:

Pam Atnikov, Richard Cameron, Alexandra Charlton, Ron Costanzo, Donna Cohen, Catherine Crouch, Bill Dovhey, Sandy Dowling, David Dyck, Helen Elfert, Bev Ferguson, Elizabeth Ferguson, Jean-Pierre Fougeres, Gail Franko, Maureen Girvan, Stanley Greenspoon, Satoko Hashigasako, Martha Hazevoet, Delma Hemming, Margaret Hendren, Michiko Higgins-Kato, Maggie Holland, Richard Huber, Gigi Huxley, Gretchen Ingram, Ron Jobe, Gerald Joe, Susan Kaufman, Barb Knox, Susan Larkin, Marlene LeGates, Pat Lim, Christina MacLeod, Wanda Madokoro, Dolina McLay, Kathryn McMullen, Vania Mello, Fran Moore, Carole Nakonechny, Veronika Ong, Gina Page, Betty Lou Phillips, Selma Savage, Traudi Schneider, Jill Schroder, Alison Stockbrocks, Eleanor Third.

THANK YOU TO OUR VOLUNTEERS!


programme notes© susan youens, 1997; used here with permission

Thirty years after Schubert’s death, one of his closest friends, a man named Joseph von Spaun, wrote down his memories of the first performance of this song cycle, a private performance in which the composer previewed his latest work for his circle of friends.

For some time, Schubert appeared very upset and melancholy. When I asked him what was troubling him, he would say only, “Soon you will hear and understand.” One day he said to me, “Come over to Schober’s today and I will sing you a cycle of horrifying [schauerlicher] songs. I am anxious to know what you will say about them. They have cost me more effort than any of my other songs.” So he sang the entire Winterreise through to us in a voice full of emotion. We were utterly dumbfounded by the mournful, gloomy tone of these songs, and Schober said that only one of them,

“Der Lindenbaum” (The Linden Tree), had appealed to him. To this Schubert replied, “I like these songs more than all the rest, and you will come to like them as well.”

“Like” is far too pallid a word for the way we now feel about this, one of the supreme masterpieces of the genre. Schubert’s autograph manuscript for the first half of the cycle is testimony to the effort Spaun recorded in his reminiscences

– there are places that look as if the Napoleonic Wars had been fought all over again on these folios, replete with revisions, deletions, added bars, and changes of all kinds (the entire manuscript is in The Pierpont Morgan Library in New York and in a facsimile edition by Dover Publications, Inc.). One can, for example, see Schubert’s exasperation with an entire lengthy passage in the twelfth song, “Einsamkeit” (“Loneliness”), when he crosses out three unfinished staff systems with an X so furious that it almost cuts through the paper.

Schubert insisted that he had to have good poetry before he could compose good songs – he was among the most literary of all composers. We can surmise that he had sought appropriate poetry for a song cycle of his own for some time, and he finally found the perfect subject for his purposes in works by the Prussian poet Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827), almost exactly his contemporary. It was fashionable for much of this century to decry Müller as a second rate (or worse) hack, but he was actually a fine poet and a powerful one on many occasions, a writer who found new expression for the literary ideals of his day. Winterreise was not Schubert’s first cycle to poems by Müller, who was famous in his own lifetime as the “Griechen Müller”, or “Greek Müller” (like Lord Byron, whose works Müller helped to popularize in Germany, he championed Greek independence from the Ottoman Empire). In late 1822 or early 1823, Schubert had discovered Müller’s first anthology of poetry, the extravagantly

entitled Siebenundsiebzig Gedichte aus den hinterlassenen Papieren eines reisenden Waldhornisten (Seventy seven poems from the posthumous papers of a travelling horn player), published in the poet’s native Dessau in 1821, and had set the first work in the volume – Die schöne Müllerin (The Beautiful Miller Maid) – to music in 1823. Several years later, perhaps near the end of 1826, he discovered a cycle of twelve poems entitled Die Winterreise (The Winter Journey) in the literary periodical Urania: Taschenbuch auf das Jahr 1823 (pp. 207 22). Thinking that this was the entirety of the work, he set the cycle to music, perhaps in early 1827, and wrote “Fine” – The End – with a flourish at the conclusion of the twelfth song.

Soon after, possibly in March or April, Schubert discovered volume 2 of Müller’s Poems from the posthumous papers of a travelling horn player, published in 1824; there, he found the cycle extended to twice its original length, from twelve poems to twenty four, and reshuffled in a different order from the Urania text. Müller might speculatively have wanted to take the solitary wanderer we meet in this work to some kind of resolution beyond what one finds in the first twelve poems, and therefore augmented the cycle. Schubert could not duplicate Müller’s final order without disturbing the subtle musical relationships between the twelve songs he had already composed and therefore set the remaining poems in order (with one exception: he switched the order of “Die Nebensonnen” and “Mut” near the end) as the

“Fortsetzung” (Continuation) of his winter journey.

The poetic cycle, Die Winterreise, is thus in some respects a different work from Schubert’s cycle Winterreise (the composer omitted the definite article for a starker, stronger effect). In these poems, Müller took a Romantic cliché – an alienated, isolated wanderer on a journey into the wintry geography of the soul in search of self-knowledge – and fashioned something original from it, a post-Romantic variation on a theme. At the outset, Müller’s wayfarer is impelled by rejection in love to dissect his innermost being, and to do so decades before Freud would propose a framework for such investigations. His first words, “Fremd bin ich eingezogen, Fremd zieh’ ich wieder aus” (“I came here a stranger, I depart a stranger”), state an existential dilemma beyond sorrow over lost love, as wrenching as that is; thereafter, over and over again, he asks himself variations on the fundamental question, “Why am I always a Fremdling, a stranger to others and to myself?”. Müller fashioned his wanderer’s search for answers as a monodrama, with only one speaking character and no narrator to supply information the wanderer omits; we are never told his name, what he looks like (except that he has black hair), his birthplace, occupation, upbringing, or personal history.


Of his inner life, we learn much more – he is a philosopher manqué, an atheist who cannot be comforted by appeals to a spiritual realm, a realist who knows that dreams are wish fulfilment, a being remarkably free from self-pity. By the end, he even understands his past love to have been illusion. In

“Die Nebensonnen”, he sees the atmospheric illusion known as perihelia, or two phantom suns on either side of the real sun; like the short lived light of the illusory globes of light in the sky, his sweetheart’s eyes shone on him only briefly and then vanished. She was not meant for him because he was destined to travel “eine Straße.., die noch keiner ging zurück” (“a road from which no one returned”).

That line in the twentieth song, “Der Wegweiser”, is what the Greeks termed the peripeteia of the work, the moment of revelation in which all of the veils obscuring the truth from our gaze are stripped away. Here, unutterably weary and depressed, the wanderer asks himself why his journey

– his life – is so different from that of other people, what compulsion drives him to keep going, and why he chooses to be so isolated. (Recognizing the bridge between the first song, “Gute Nacht”, in which the wanderer first describes the journey, and this song, Schubert fills both lieder with a repeated note figure emblematic of the journey.) As if his very frustration had opened a window in the mind, all of a sudden he sees a metaphorical signpost pointing the way to a road “from which no one returned”. Is this death, the journey from which no traveller returns? But death rejects

the wanderer decisively in “Das Wirtshaus” immediately after “Der Wegweiser”; this cycle has as one important theme the difficulty of dying when one wishes, or the tenacity of life, all the more marked when unwanted. What if the sign tells of a Künstlerberufung, or an artist’s discovery of his calling? The wanderer has sung of his journey all along; now he discovers that he is condemned to continued life, or rather, a living death as a singer poet irrevocably set apart from society.

The wanderer, however, does not want this fate. He has yearned throughout the cycle for reciprocated love and domesticity, for a “bright, warm house” and a “beloved soul” within; when this precious, ordinary happiness is denied him, he longs for a nihilistic death. The prospect of an artist’s lonely existence horrifies him, impelling once again the desire for death real death. In this, as in much else, Müller shows his colours as a post Romantic; a true Romantic would have found some possibility for art as a means of transcendence, but the wanderer can find nothing of the kind in the fate he sees spelled out for him on a signpost in the mind. At the end of the cycle (which is not a true ending), he “meets” the hurdy gurdy player, who is perhaps a nightmarish image of the wanderer’s own future and a haunting statement of the absolute necessity for human bonds; where they do not exist, the mind will project them onto the external world in a Doppelgänger mirror of itself. lt is crucial that this uniquely powerful figure (Müller had a knack for ending cycles with his best efforts) is a beggar musician: music reduced to its most elemental state – “laute Leere”, or “sounding nothingness” – is all that is left to the wanderer.

We should remember that when Schubert set these poems to music, he was confronting his own probable fate. Enough was known about the terminal stages of syphilis in the 1820s for Schubert to realize that this illness ended in horrifying dementia and paralysis preceding the ultimate denouement, If death turned him away in the first or second stages of the disease, as it turns away the wanderer in “Das Wirtshaus”, would he have to suffer the living death the wanderer endures, his creative faculties numbed and the stream of his music frozen? The cycle ends on a terrifying question mark, for which there is no answer, only the echoing silence following the dying away drone of the hurdy-gurdy. Realizing this, one understands what a heroic act it was for Schubert to set this text, of all texts, to music, to wring music of this power from the bleakest fear imaginable. Somewhat fancifully, I like to think that Death, perhaps flattered by Schubert’s many and varied portraits of him in music, spared the composer the fate he most dreaded, taking him swiftly and before the otherwise inevitable onset of insanity. Despite the tragedy of his premature death (and we will always wonder what might have been), we can only be grateful that he escaped the wanderer’s miserable fate, that he transformed Müller’s characters into songs “I like more than all the rest” before his own gentler end. n

Pick up our colourful calendar/brochure in the lobby today – it includes full details

about the 2018-2019 winter season.

earlymusic.bc.ca


1.

Gute Nacht

Fremd bin ich eingezogen,Fremd zieh ich wieder aus.Der Mai war mir gewogenMit manchem Blumenstrauß.Das Mädchen sprach von Liebe,Die Mutter gar von Eh –Nun ist die Welt so trübe,Der Weg gehüllt in Schnee.

Ich kann zu meiner ReisenNicht wählen mit der Zeit:Muß selbst den Weg mir weisenIn dieser Dunkelheit.Es zieht ein MondenschattenAls mein Gefährte mit,Und auf den weißen MattenSuch ich des Wildes Tritt.

Was soll ich länger weilen,Dass man mich trieb’ hinaus?Laß irre Hunde heulenVor ihres Herren Haus!Die Liebe liebt das Wandern,Gott hat sie so gemacht –Von einem zu dem andern –Fein Liebchen, gute Nacht!

Will dich im Traum nicht stören,Wär schad um deine Ruh,Sollst meinen Tritt nicht hören –Sacht, sacht die Türe zu!Schreib’ im VorübergehenAns Tor dir gute Nacht,Damit du mögest sehen,An dich hab ich gedacht.

2.

Die Wetterfahne

Der Wind spielt mit der WetterfahneAuf meines schönen Liebchens Haus.Da dacht ich schon in meinem Wahne,Sie pfiff’ den armen Flüchtling aus.

1.

Good night

A stranger I came, A stranger I depart.The month of May favoured me With many bouquets of flowers.The girl spoke of love,Her mother of marriage even –And now the world’s so bleakThe road concealed in snow.

I cannot choose the time For my journey:I must find my own way In this darkness.A shadow in the moonlightKeeps me company,And on the white meadows I seek the tracks of deer.

Why should I wait any longerFor them to drive me out?Let stray dogs howl Before their master’s house!Love loves to wander, God has made it so –From one to another –My sweetest love, good night!

I’ll not disturb your dreams, A shame to spoil your rest!You shall not hear my footsteps,As I softly close the door!I’ll write ‘Good night’ on your gate,As I pass,So that you may see I’ve thought of you.

2.

The weather-vane

The wind plays with the weather-vane On my beloved’s house.In my folly I thought it mocked The wretched fugitive. >>

texts & translations translation by richard stokes © 2003

this programme will be performed without an interval. the audience is requested to hold their applause until the end of the concert.


Er hätt es eher bemerken sollen,Des Hauses aufgestecktes Schild,So hätt er nimmer suchen wollenIm Haus ein treues Frauenbild.

Der Wind spielt drinnen mit den HerzenWie auf dem Dach, nur nicht so laut.Was fragen sie nach meinen Schmerzen?Ihr Kind ist eine reiche Braut.

3.

Gefrorne Tränen

Gefrorne Tropfen fallenVon meinen Wangen ab:Ob es mir denn entgangen,Daß ich geweinet hab?

Ei Tränen, meine Tränen,Und seid ihr gar so lau,Daß ihr erstarrt zu EiseWie kühler Morgentau?

Und dringt doch aus der QuelleDer Brust so glühend heiß,Als wolltet ihr zerschmelzenDes ganzen Winters Eis.

4.

Erstarrung

Ich such im Schnee vergebensNach ihrer Tritte Spur,Wo sie an meinem ArmeDurchstrich die grüne Flur.

Ich will den Boden küssen,Durchdringen Eis und SchneeMit meinen heißen Tränen,Bis ich die Erde seh.

Wo find ich eine Blüte,Wo find ich grünes Gras?Die Blumen sind erstorben,Der Rasen sieht so blaß.

Soll denn kein AngedenkenIch nehmen mit von hier?Wenn meine Schmerzen schweigen,Wer sagt mir dann von ihr?

Mein Herz ist wie erstorben,Kalt starrt ihr Bild darin:Schmilzt je das Herz mir wieder,Fließt auch ihr Bild dahin.

He should have noticed it sooner,This sign fixed on the house,He’d never then have thought to findA faithful woman there.

The wind plays with hearts in the house,Though less loudly than on the roof.What is my torment to them? Their child’s a rich bride.

3.

Frozen tears

Frozen drops fall From my cheeks:Did I, then, not noticeI’d been weeping?

O tears, my tears,Are you so tepidThat you turn to ice Like cool morning dew?

And yet you spring from my heartWith as fierce a heat,As if you would melt All the winter’s ice.

4.

Numbness

In vain I seek Her steps in the snow,Where we walked arm in armThrough the green field.

I shall kiss the ground,Pierce ice and snowWith my hot tears, Till I see the earth.

Where shall I find a flower, Where shall I find green grass?The flowers have withered,The grass looks so pale.

Is there no keepsake, then,For me to take from here?Who, when my grief is silent,Will speak to me of her?

My heart seems dead,Her cold image numb within:Should my heart ever thaw,Her image too will melt.

Please turn the page quietly, and only after the music has ended.


5.

Der Lindenbaum

Am Brunnen vor dem ToreDa steht ein Lindenbaum:Ich träumt’ in seinem SchattenSo manchen süßen Traum.

Ich schnitt in seine RindeSo manches liebe Wort;Es zog in Freud und LeideZu ihm mich immerfort.

Ich mußt’ auch heute wandernVorbei in tiefer Nacht,Da hab ich noch im DunkelDie Augen zugemacht.

Und seine Zweige rauschten,Als riefen sie mir zu:Komm her zu mir, Geselle,Hier findst du deine Ruh!

Die kalten Winde bliesenMir grad ins Angesicht,Der Hut flog mir vom Kopfe,Ich wendete mich nicht.

Nun bin ich manche StundeEntfernt von jenem Ort,Und immer hör ich’s rauschen:Du fändest Ruhe dort!

6.

Wasserflut

Manche Trän’ aus meinen AugenIst gefallen in den Schnee;Seine kalten Flocken saugenDurstig ein das heiße Weh.

Wenn die Gräser sprossen wollen,Weht daher ein lauer Wind,Und das Eis zerspringt in Schollen,Und der weiche Schnee zerrinnt.

Schnee, du weißt von meinem Sehnen:Sag, wohin doch geht dein Lauf?Folge nach nur meinen Tränen,Nimmt dich bald das Bächlein auf.

Wirst mit ihm die Stadt durchziehen,Muntre Strassen ein und aus:Fühlst du meine Tränen glühen,Da ist meiner Liebsten Haus.

5.

The linden tree

By the well, before the gate,Stands a linden tree:I used to dream in its shadeSo many a sweet dream.

I used to carve in its bark So many a word of love;In joy and in sorrowI felt ever drawn to it.

I had to pass it again todayAt the dead of night,And even in the dark,I closed my eyes.

And its branches rustled,As though calling to me:Come to me, my friend, Here you shall find rest!

The cold winds blewFull into my face,My hat flew from my head,I did not turn back.

Now I have journeyed Many hours from that place,Yet still I hear the rustling:There shall you find rest!

6.

Flood

Many a tear from my eyesHas fallen into the snow;The cold flakes thirstily drink My burning anguish.

When grass is ready to grow,A warm wind blows,And the ice breaks into fragments, And the soft snow melts.

Snow, you know of my longing:Tell me where your path leads?You’ve only to follow my tears And the stream will bear you away.

It will carry you through the townIn and out of busy streets:When you feel my tears burning,That will be my loved-one’s house.


7.

Auf dem Flusse

Der du so lustig rauschtest,Du heller, wilder Fluß,Wie still bist du geworden,Gibst keinen Scheidegruß.

Mit harter, starrer RindeHast du dich überdeckt,Liegst kalt und unbeweglichIm Sande ausgestreckt.

In deine Decke grab ichMit einem spitzen SteinDen Namen meiner LiebstenUnd Stund und Tag hinein:

Den Tag des ersten Grußes,Den Tag, an dem ich ging;Um Nam’ und Zahlen windetSich ein zerbrochner Ring.

Mein Herz, in diesem BacheErkennst du nun dein Bild?Ob’s unter seiner RindeWohl auch so reißend schwillt?

8.

Rückblick

Es brennt mir unter beiden Sohlen,Tret ich auch schon auf Eis und Schnee.Ich möcht nicht wieder Atem holen,Bis ich nicht mehr die Türme seh.

Hab mich an jedem Stein gestoßen,So eilt’ ich zu der Stadt hinaus;Die Krähen warfen Bäll’ und SchloßenAuf meinen Hut von jedem Haus.

Wie anders hast du mich empfangen,Du Stadt der Unbeständigkeit!An deinen blanken Fenstern sangenDie Lerch’ und Nachtigall im Streit.

Die runden Lindenbäume blühten,Die klaren Rinnen rauschten hell,Und ach, zwei Mädchenaugen glühten! –Da war’s geschehn um dich, Gesell!

Kömmt mir der Tag in die Gedanken,Möcht ich noch einmal rückwärts sehn,Möcht ich zurücke wieder wanken,Vor ihrem Hause stille stehn.

7.

On the river

You who murmured so merrily,You clear, raging stream,How silent you’ve become,You bid me no farewell.

You’ve covered yourself With a hard stiff crust,You lie cold and motionless, Stretched out in the sand.

With a sharp stone I carve on your surfaceThe name of my love,And the hour and the day:

The day of our first greeting,The day I went away,Around the name and figureIs wound a broken ring.

My heart, do you now see Your own likeness in this stream?Is there such a raging torrent Beneath its surface too?

8.

A backward glance

The ground blazes beneath my feet,Though I walk on ice and snow.I shall not pause for breath again, Till the towers are out of sight.

I’ve stumbled over every stone In my haste to leave the town;The crows shied snow and hailstones Onto my hat from every roof.

How differently you welcomed me,City of inconstancy!Lark and nightingale vied in song At your gleaming windows.

The rounded linden trees blossomed,The clear fountains murmured brightly,And ah! the girl’s fair eyes flashed fire! –And your fate, my friend, was sealed!

When I think of that day,I long to look back once more,Long to stumble back again,Stand silently before her house.



9.

Irrlicht

In die tiefsten FelsengründeLockte mich ein Irrlicht hin:Wie ich einen Ausgang finde,Liegt nicht schwer mir in dem Sinn.

Bin gewohnt das Irregehen,’s führt ja jeder Weg zum Ziel:Unsre Freuden, unsre Leiden,Alles eines Irrlichts Spiel!

Durch des Bergstroms trockne RinnenWind’ ich ruhig mich hinab –Jeder Strom wird’s Meer gewinnen,Jedes Leiden auch sein Grab.

10.

Rast

Nun merk ich erst, wie müd ich bin,Da ich zur Ruh mich lege;Das Wandern hielt mich munter hinAuf unwirtbarem Wege.

Die Füße frugen nicht nach Rast,Es war zu kalt zum Stehen,Der Rücken fühlte keine Last,Der Sturm half fort mich wehen.

In eines Köhlers engem HausHab Obdach ich gefunden;Doch meine Glieder ruhn nicht aus,So brennen ihre Wunden.

Auch du, mein Herz, in Kampf und SturmSo wild und so verwegen,Fühlst in der Still erst deinen WurmMit heißem Stich sich regen!

9.

Will-o’-the-wisp

A will-o’-the-wisp lured me Into the deepest rocky chasm:How to find a way outDoes not greatly concern me.

I’m used to going astray,Every path leads to one goal:Our joys, our sorrowsAre all a will-o’-the-wisp’s game!

Through the dry bed of a mountain streamI calmly make my way down –Every river will reach the sea,Every sorrow find its grave.

10.

Rest

Only now as I lie down to rest, Do I notice how tired I am;Walking had kept me cheerful On the desolate road.

My feet demanded no rest, It was too cold for standing still,My back felt no burden,The storm helped to drive me on.

I have found shelterIn a charcoal-burner’s cramped hut;But my limbs cannot rest With all their burning wounds.

And you too, my heart, in storm and strifeSo audacious and so wild,You feel stirring in this stillnessThe fierce pangs of anguish!


11.

Frühlingstraum

Ich traümte von bunten Blumen,So wie sie wohl blühen im Mai,Ich träumte von grünen Wiesen,Von lustigem Vogelgeschrei.

Und als die Hähne krähten,Da ward mein Auge wach;Da war es kalt und finster,Es schrien die Raben vom Dach.

Doch an den FensterscheibenWer malte die Blätter da?Ihr lacht wohl über den Träumer,Der Blumen im Winter sah?

Ich träumte von Lieb um Liebe,Von einer schönen Maid,Von Herzen und von Küssen,Von Wonne und Seligkeit.

Und als die Hähne krähten,Da ward mein Herze wach;Nun sitz ich hier alleineUnd denke dem Traume nach.

Die Augen schließ ich wieder,Noch schlägt das Herz so warm.Wann grünt ihr Blätter am Fenster?Wann halt ich mein Liebchen im Arm?

12.

Einsamkeit

Wie eine trübe WolkeDurch heitre Lüfte geht,Wenn in der Tanne WipfelEin mattes Lüftchen weht:

So zieh ich meine StraßeDahin mit trägem Fuß,Durch helles, frohes Leben,Einsam und ohne Gruß.

Ach, daß die Luft so ruhig!Ach, daß die Welt so licht!Als noch die Stürme tobten,War ich so elend nicht.

11.

Dream of Spring

I dreamt of bright flowers, Such as might bloom in May,I dreamt of green meadows And happy bird-calls.

And when the cocks crowed,I opened my eyes;It was dark and cold,The ravens screamed from the roof.

But who painted those leaves On the window-panes?Are you mocking the dreamer Who saw flowers in winter?

I dreamt of love requited, Dreamt of a beautiful girl,Of caressing and of kissing,Of rapture and of joy.

And when the cocks crowed,I opened my eyes;Now I sit here alone,And think about the dream.

I close my eyes again,My heart still beats so ardently.Leaves on my window, when will you turn green?When shall I hold my love in my arms?

12.

Loneliness

Like a dark cloud Drifting across clear skies,When a faint breeze Stirs through the fir-tops:

I go on my way With dragging steps,Through life’s bright joys,Alone and ignored.Alas, why is the air so calm!

Alas, why is the world so bright!While storms were still raging,I was not so wretched.



13.

Die Post

Von der Straße her ein Posthorn klingt.Was hat es, daß es so hoch aufspringt, Mein Herz?

Die Post bringt keinen Brief für dich:Was drängst du denn so wunderlich, Mein Herz?

Nun ja, die Post kommt aus der Stadt,Wo ich ein liebes Liebchen hatt’, Mein Herz!

Willst wohl einmal hinübersehnUnd fragen, wie es dort mag gehn, Mein Herz?

14.

Der greise Kopf

Der Reif hat einen weißen ScheinMir übers Haar gestreuet.Da glaubt’ ich schon ein Greis zu sein,Und hab’ mich sehr gefreuet.

Doch bald ist er hinweggetaut,Hab wieder schwarze Haare,Daß mir’s vor meiner Jugend graut –Wie weit noch bis zur Bahre!

Vom Abendrot zum MorgenlichtWard mancher Kopf zum Greise.Wer glaubt’s? Und meiner ward es nichtAuf dieser ganzen Reise!

15.

Die Krähe

Eine Krähe war mit mirAus der Stadt gezogen,Ist bis heute für und fürUm mein Haupt geflogen.

Krähe, wunderliches Tier,Willst mich nicht verlassen?Meinst wohl bald als Beute hierMeinen Leib zu fassen?

Nun, es wird nicht weit mehr gehnAn dem Wanderstabe.Krähe, laß mich endlich sehnTreue bis zum Grabe!

13.

The mail-coach

A post-horn sounds from the road.Why do you surge so wildly, My heart?

There will be no letter for you: Why do you throb so strangely, My heart?

Because the post comes from the town,Where once I had a sweetheart, My heart!

Would you like to look in And ask how things are there, My heart?

14.

The hoary head

The frost has sprinkled a white sheenOn my hair.I believed I was an old manAnd was overjoyed.

But soon it melted,My hair is black again,So that I shudder at my youth –How far still to the grave!

Between dusk and dawn,Many a head has turned grey.Yet mine, would you believe it, has not,Throughout this whole journey!

15.

The crow

One crow came with me From the town,And to this day Has steadily circled my head

O crow, strange creature,Will you not leave me?Do you intend soonTo seize my body as prey?

Well, I’ve not much furtherTo journey with my staff.O crow, let me at last seeFaithfulness unto death!


16.

Letzte Hoffnung

Hie und da ist an den BäumenManches bunte Blatt zu sehn, Und ich bleibe vor den BäumenOftmals in Gedanken stehn.

Schaue nach dem einen Blatte,Hänge meine Hoffnung dran;Spielt der Wind mit meinem Blatte,Zittr’ ich, was ich zittern kann.

Ach, und fällt das Blatt zu Boden,Fällt mit ihm die Hoffnung ab,Fall ich selber mit zu Boden,Wein’ auf meiner Hoffnung Grab.

17.

Im Dorfe

Es bellen die Hunde, es rasseln die Ketten,Es schlafen die Menschen in ihren Betten,Träumen sich manches, was sie nicht haben,Tun sich im Guten und Argen erlaben:Und morgen früh ist alles zerflossen –Je nun, sie haben ihr Teil genossenUnd hoffen, was sie noch übrig liessen,Doch wieder zu finden auf ihren Kissen.

Bellt mich nur fort, ihr wachen Hunde,Laßt mich nicht ruhn in der Schlummerstunde!Ich bin zu Ende mit allen Träumen –Was will ich unter den Schläfern säumen?

18.

Der stürmische Morgen

Wie hat der Sturm zerrissenDes Himmels graues Kleid!Die Wolkenfetzen flatternUmher in mattem Streit.

Und rote FeuerflammenZiehn zwischen ihnen hin.Das nenn ich einen MorgenSo recht nach meinem Sinn!

Mein Herz sieht an dem HimmelGemalt sein eignes Bild –Es ist nichts als der Winter,Der Winter kalt und wild!

16Last hope

Here and there on the treesMany bright leaves can still be seen,And by those treesI often stand lost in thought.

I look at the one remaining leaf,And hang my hopes on it;If the wind plays with my leaf,I tremble in every limb.

Ah, and if the leaf falls to the ground,My hope falls with it,I too fall to the ground,And weep on my hope’s grave.

17.

In the village

Dogs bark, chains rattle,People are asleep in bed,Dreaming of much they do not possess,Consoling themselves with good things and bad:And by morning all will have vanished. –Still, they’ve enjoyed their shareAnd hope to find in their dreamsWhat is still left to enjoy.

Bark me on my way, watchful dogs,Give me no rest in this hour of sleep!I’m finished with all dreaming –Why should I linger among those who sleep?

18.

The stormy morning

How the storm has rentThe grey garment of the sky!Ragged clouds flit aboutIn weary strife.

And red streaks of lightningFlash between them.That’s what I call a morningAfter my own heart!

My heart sees its own likenessPainted on the sky –It’s nothing but winter,Winter cold and wild!



19.

Täuschung

Ein Licht tanzt freundlich vor mir her,Ich folg ihm nach die Kreuz und Quer,Ich folg ihm gern, und seh’s ihm anDaß es verlockt den Wandersmann.Ach, wer wie ich so elend ist,Gibt gern sich hin der bunten List,Die hinter Eis und Nacht und GrausIhm weist ein helles, warmes Haus,Und eine liebe Seele drin –Nur Täuschung ist für mich Gewinn!

20.

Der Wegweiser

Was vermeid ich denn die Wege,Wo die andern Wandrer gehn,Suche mir versteckte StegeDurch verschneite Felsenhöhn?

Habe ja doch nichts begangen,Daß ich Menschen sollte scheun –Welch ein törichtes VerlangenTreibt mich in die Wüsteneien?

Weiser stehen auf den Wegen,Weisen auf die Städte zu,Und ich wandre sonder Maßen,Ohne Ruh, und suche Ruh.

Einen Weiser seh ich stehenUnverrückt vor meinem Blick;Eine Straße muß ich gehen,Die noch keiner ging zurück.

19.

Delusion

A friendly light dances before me,I follow it this way and that,I follow it willingly, and seeThat it lures the wanderer from his path.Ah, any man as wretched as IGladly yields to such garish guile,That shows him beyond ice and night and terrorA bright warm house,And a loving soul within –Delusion is all I profit from!

20.

The signpost

Why do I avoid the pathsThat other wanderers tread,Seek out hidden waysThrough snow-bound rocky heights?

I have, after all, done no wrong,That I should shun mankind –What foolish desireDrives me into the wilderness?

Signposts stand along the way,Pointing to the towns,And I wander on and onRestlessly in search of rest.

One signpost I see standing,Firmly before my eyes;One road I must travelFrom which no man has ever returned.

CDSFOR SALE

IN THE LOBBYTONIGHT


21.

Das Wirtshaus

Auf einen TotenackerHat mich mein Weg gebracht.Allhier will ich einkehren:Hab ich bei mir gedacht.

Ihr grünen TotenkränzeKönnt wohl die Zeichen sein,Die müde Wandrer ladenIns kühle Wirtshaus ein.

Sind denn in diesem HauseDie Kammern all besetzt?Bin matt zum Niedersinken,Bin tödlich schwer verletzt.

O unbarmherzge Schenke,Doch weisest du mich ab?Nun weiter denn, nur weiter,Mein treuer Wanderstab!

22.

Mut

Fliegt der Schnee mir ins Gesicht,Schüttl’ ich ihn herunter.Wenn mein Herz im Busen spricht,Sing ich hell und munter.

Höre nicht, was es mir sagt,Habe keine Ohren;Fühle nicht, was es mir klagt,Klagen ist für Toren.

Lustig in die Welt hineinGegen Wind und Wetter!Will kein Gott auf Erden sein,Sind wir selber Götter.

23.

Die Nebensonnen

Drei Sonnen sah ich am Himmel stehn,Hab lang und fest sie angesehn,Und sie auch standen da so stier,Als wollten sie nicht weg von mir.Ach, meine Sonnen seid ihr nicht!Schaut andern doch ins Angesicht!Ja, neulich hatt’ ich auch wohl drei:Nun sind hinab die besten zwei.Ging nur die dritt erst hinterdrein!Im Dunkeln wird mir wohler sein.

21.

The inn

My journey has brought meTo a graveyard.Here, I thought, is whereI shall rest for the night.

You green funeral wreaths Must be the inn-signsThat invite weary travellersInside the cool inn.

Are all the rooms, then,Taken in this house?I am weary, ready to sink,Wounded unto death.

O pitiless inn,Yet you turn me away?On, then, ever onwards,My trusty staff!

22.

Courage!

If snow drives into my face,I shake it off,If my heart speaks in my breast,I sing loud and merrily.

I don’t hear what it tells me,I have no ears;I don’t feel what it laments,Lamenting is for fools.

Cheerfully out into the worldAgainst the wind and weather!If there’s no god on earth,Then we ourselves are gods.

23.

Phantom suns

I saw three suns in the sky,Long and intently I looked at them, And they too stood there so fixedly,As though they’d never leave me.Alas, you are not my suns!You gaze into other faces!Lately, yes, I did have three:But the best two now are down.If only the third would follow!I’d fare better in the dark.



24.

Der Leiermann

Drüben hinterm DorfeSteht ein Leiermann,Und mit starren FingernDreht er, was er kann.

Barfuß auf dem EiseWankt er hin und her,Und sein kleiner TellerBleibt ihm immer leer.

Keiner mag ihn hören,Keiner sieht ihn an,Und die Hunde knurrenUm den alten Mann.

Und er läßt es gehen,Alles, wie es will,Dreht, und seine LeierSteht ihm nimmer still.

Wunderlicher Alter,Soll ich mit dir gehn?Willst zu meinen LiedernDeine Leier drehn?

24.

The organ-grinder

There, beyond the village,An organ-grinder stands,And with numb fingersPlays as best he can.

Barefoot on the iceHe staggers to and fro,And his little plateIs always empty.

No one cares to listen,No one looks at him,And the dogs snarlAround the old man.

And he lets it all happen,Happen as it will,He turns the handle,His hurdy-gurdy’s never still.

Strange old man!Shall I go with you?Will you grind your musicTo the songs I sing?

Interested in becoming our Treasurer? EMV: For more than 45 years EMV has helped bring Vancouver audiences outstanding world-class performances

and education toward a deeper understanding and appreciation of musical roots and the art of composition.

WHY? EMV is embarking upon another exciting phase in its development. It will provide the right volunteer a rewar-ding opportunity as part of a talented and engaged board of highly qualified directors.

WHEN? Our directors serve two-year terms meeting once a month at Hodson Manor (7th and Birch) in Vancouver, for nine months out of the year. The Treasurer is also required to lead monthly Finance Committee meetings and make an annual presentation at the Annual General Meeting.

WHAT? Serving as EMV’s Treasurer provides not-for-profit board experience with the satisfaction that comes with learning about the performing arts and musical education. Board members gain from a collegial and well rounded network that includes quality staff. As an added bonus there is the opportunity to meet, mix and mingle with famous instrument builders, musicians and teachers.

WHO? No previous knowledge of music or arts boards is required. We are looking for a CA, CGA, or CMA willing to expand the boundaries of expertise to the benefit of the musical arts, while applying prudence and a pragmatic sense to managing a business with a million-dollar annual budget.

HOW? If you recognise that being EMV’s Treasurer would enrich your life, please send a note telling us about yourself to our Business Manager, Nathan Lorch, at [email protected]. We want to know about you and tell you more about us. Please make your email subject line: “Thinking about Becoming EMV’s Treasurer”.

MORE… There is a whole lot more information about Early Music Vancouver at: www.earlymusic.bc.ca

Philippe Sly bass-baritone | Michael McMahon fortepiano“The performances are of unmatched excellence.”

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